


By Any Other Name

by MusingWordsmith



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Oneshot, Turtle Tots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 07:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10354854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusingWordsmith/pseuds/MusingWordsmith
Summary: The Turtle Tots realize they are lacking in something important: A name. Splinter wishes he'd gotten around to it before they did. A different take on how the turtles ended up with the names they did.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea bit me and I just had to write it. Thanks to TofuNinjaCat for the beta! I picture this as '03 turtles, and it really works best with the 'Splinter was born a rat' backstory.

“Why don’ we have names?”

 

Three pairs of eyes turned towards the asker of the question, ending their bickering. “What’chu mean?” one asked, coming to stand closer to his curious brother.

 

“Names,” the first repeated. “S’ something th’ people have t’ tell each oder apart,” he explained.

 

“Bu’ we can,” a third pointed out. “You booky, he bossy, and he dummy,” he said, pointing at the first, second, and last turtle as he spoke.

 

“Hey!” the last squawked. “M’ not dummy!”

 

“An’ I not bossy,” the second said, scowling at his brother. “Be nice,” he added.

 

“Make me,” the third said and stuck out his tongue.

 

“Guuuuys!” whined the last. “No fight! Wanna hear ‘bout names!”

 

The other two glowered at each other a moment before settling down and turning their attention back to their ‘booky’ brother.

 

“Those no names,” the first turtle said haughtily. “Names ‘r’ diff’ent. Like- like Sensei! He got a name!”

 

“Sensei has a name?” asked the second one, interest piqued.

 

“Uh-huh. His name ‘Masser Splinner,” explained the first.

 

The second cocked his head slightly as he thought about that. “I wanna name,” he suddenly declared.

 

“Me too!” the fourth turtle cried, bouncing excitedly. “Bu’ you no get one,” he said to the third. “Only nice tur’les get names.”

 

“I get name if I want one!” the third snapped back and pushed his brother.

 

While normally this would have led to tears and wailing, the fourth turtle was too excited over getting a name to throw the usual fuss. Instead, he popped to his feet and grinned excitedly at other two brothers. “Let’s get names!”

 

“But how?” asked the second, frowning thoughtfully. The four of them quieted, thinking it over.

 

All of a sudden, the first jumped to his feet. “We coul’ pick ‘em out of one’a my books!”

 

“Yeah! The one wi’ the pictures!” the fourth cheered, jumping up and down in excitement.

 

“Okay!” the first said, and ran off to get it.

 

“We getting na-ames, we getting na-ames,” the fourth sang to himself, giggling.

 

“Y’ didn’ know ‘bout names till jus’ now,” the third pointed out.

 

“So?” the fourth replied, giving him a confused look.

 

“Don’ fight,” the second said seriously.

 

Any fight that would have broken out was halted as the first came running back up with the picture book. Within moments, the four of them were clustered around the book, chattering over which name they would pick.

 

 

_A short time later_

 

Splinter stared at his four sons, looking up at him in expectation. In the chaos that was learning his new form, caring for four infants, and setting up a new home, it had slipped his mind to give them names. By the time things had settled, he had grown used to it and had not considered it. A brief pang of guilt hit him as he realized they had needed to take such a basic task upon themselves.

 

No wonder they had ended up with the names they had.

 

“Masser Splinner?” asked his dutiful son, peering up at him in worry. “Di’ we do somet’ing bad?”

 

Oh, it seemed he had been silent too long. “No my son, you did nothing wrong. I am sorry you have gone so long without a name you had to chose one for yourself.” Relief spread across four faces. Splinter almost hated to continue. However, it was necessary. “But, perhaps, you would consider letting me chose one for you? Perhaps one like Yoshi?”

 

“You don’ like our names?” his son asked, visibly wilting.

 

“ My son-” Splinter paused, kneeling down and placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. Carefully, he formed the name he had chosen, “Mona Lisa, I appreciate you trying to do the right thing, but I don’t believe the names you have chosen are the most suitable.”

 

“But I  _ like  _ mine!” burst out his temperamental son. ‘Stuh Gorge ‘n’ Dragon’, if he recalled correctly. He ran out for a moment, charging back in with a book in hand. “See,” he flipped it open to a picture featuring a knight running a dragon through with his lance. “Dat’s what m’ name is from,” he said, holding it up to Splinter.

 

Carefully, Splinter took the book, reading the caption to the picture.  _ St. George and the Dragon.  _ Of course his son had been attracted to  _ this  _ one. “My son,” Splinter said gently, resting his hand on his shoulder, “this is a very wonderful picture, but perhaps we could go a different route?”

 

‘Stuh Gorge ‘n’ Dragon’ frowned, kicking at the ground, “I like that one,” he muttered.

 

Splinter paused, glancing at the book again. What other route could he go? Then he saw it and it struck him. “What if we named you after the man who painted it?” he suggested.

 

His son glanced up at him. “I cn’t keep my name?”

 

“No my son, I’m afraid not,” Splinter said firmly. “But here, don’t you think that ‘Raphael’ is much easier to say?”

 

With baited breath, Splinter watched his son as he considered it, mouthing his new name a couple times. Finally he gave a half shrug. “Okay,” he agreed.

 

“Me next! Me next!” his cheerful son declared, shoving the newly-(re)named Raphael out of the way. “This one’s mine,” he declared, flipping to the page. “It’s the best cause it’s a whole building!”

 

Looking at the caption, Splinter began to see why his son had introduced himself as ‘Sisteren Chaplip’. “Ah, the Sistine Chapel,” he commented. “Painted by Michelangelo. A good name, do you agree my son?”

 

“Mickangeloo,” his son repeated, then frowned, “Mackelagleo,” he tried again.

 

“My-kel-an-gel-o,” Splinter helpfully sounded out.

 

“ My - kee- and-jello,”  his son repeated, then beamed. “Thanks Sensei!”

 

That was- still not correct. Splinter let it go for now, Michelangelo was still young, he would learn in time. “You are welcome Michelangelo. Why don’t you take Raphael and go play?”

 

“Aww, I wanna stay an’ hear the other names,” Michelangelo whined.

  
“I’m sure your brothers will tell you as soon as they join you,” Splinter soothed. “Now, go on.”

 

Pouting slightly, Michelangelo left with Raphael trailing behind. Once they left the room, the next son stepped forwards.

 

“What about me Masser Splinner?” asked the one who had introduced himself as ‘Saint Mark’. The one who no doubt started all this. Carefully, the young one turned to a picture of a statue, holding a book and smiling benevolently down at the camera. A moment of study showed the sculptor. “It seems this was made by a man named Donatello,” Splinter read and glanced up at his son. “Does this suit you?” he asked.

 

“Don-a-tell-o,” his sound sounded out thoughtfully. “I like it,” he announced, beaming. “Thanks Masser Splinner!”

 

“You are quite welcome my son. Donatello. Now, why don’t you go join your brothers,” he suggested gently.

 

Obediently, the young turtle shuffled off to join Raphael and Michelangelo, leaving Splinter alone with his last son. His last son that was staring at the ground and sniffling slightly.

 

“My son, something troubles you,” Splinter said softly. “What is it?”

 

His last son glanced up, shuffling slightly. “We picked bad names,” he said miserably.

 

“My son, there is no shame in that,” Splinter said gently. “I believe in the human world, it is customary for a parent to name their child at birth. So you see, it was not your fault, but mine for letting that error to go so long uncorrected.”

 

His last son looked startled. “Really?”

 

Splinter smiled, nodding. “Yes, really. Now, would you like to find out what your name truly is?”

His last son gave a hesitant nod, taking the book and flipping the pages back to a lady with a mysterious smile. “She looks smart,” he offered as an explanation, looking up at Splinter.

 

“That she does,” Splinter agreed, smiling gently. He studied the caption for a moment before closing the book and meeting his son’s eyes. “How do you like the name ‘Leonardo’?”

 

“Leonardo,” his son repeated softly. He grinned, “I like it. Thanks Sensei!” he said and bowed.

 

Chuckling, Splinter returned it. “Now, go join your brothers.  I’m sure they are eager to hear your name.”

 

Leonardo nodded and ran out to join them. Splinter stayed where he was, listening to his sons trying out their new names. He gave a wistful smile, they grew up so fast.

 

 

_A short time later_

 

“Sensei, I wanna name I can pr’nounce!”


End file.
